


To Pick Up The Pieces

by HiMiTSu



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mourning, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 06:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3799708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiMiTSu/pseuds/HiMiTSu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percival has a choice to make, one task that still holds meaning in the wreckage that his life had suddenly became.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Pick Up The Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> [This post](http://russiancohle.tumblr.com/post/116047463614/but-lets-talk-about-percival-im-glad-harry) had got me thinking...and this angst was born.
> 
> Also I was so strong in my resolve not to ship Percival/Lancelot but there is so much amazing art with them on tumblr and it kept popping up on my dash...I guess I didn't stand a chance. (In this story I'm going with the general fandom idea that Lancelot is the weird on of the group).

“So you went to Oxford, huh?”

There was not a squeak from an old chair as a man in a checkered suit flopped carelessly into it. His movements were always so erratic but somehow grace and elegance did not escape him. It served as a constant source of irritation for Percival.

“Talked to the professors about their promising students, didn’t you?”

Percival refused to grace it with an answer, refused to even look up from the folders neatly arranged on his desk. Resumes. Top five candidates with remarkable grades in theoretical subjects and promising skills in more hands-down training. Each one would make a worthy candidate and yet…

“They are all so boring.” A figure in checkered suit lamented, on the edge of his seat and bent over the desktop to have a better look. “They all look like a smaller version of you.” He said with a chuckle. There must be mirth in his eyes to accompany the teasing in his tone, Percival knew it but still refused to look up. Though to tell the truth, he didn’t need to since he knew that look by heart. That mischievous glint and that up-to-no-good smile were ingrained at the back of his eyelids, always haunting even when he tried to escape the reality. This time though he couldn’t even scrape enough exasperation to feel angry.

“This one is even wearing glasses!” The figure exclaimed gleefully.

Percival moved the folder in question further away to the edge of the desk and was rewarded with a pleased hum. He still had to decide between other four candidates; it was important to make the right choice. This feeling sat deep in his heart, eating away at him – that he had to find the right person. Had to make a perfect pick, but these people, these young men, were wrong, so wrong for the part…His gut went against what the records told.

Percival pushed all the folders away and leaned back in the chair with a heavy sigh, closed his eyes to be able to concentrate on the stillness of the office all around him.

“I always told you to think out of the box.” A figure in checkered suit whispered, mimicking his position in the chair across.

“Out of the box.” Percival muttered to himself. Faces of boring young men stood before his eyes, pictures from the dossiers standard and impersonal and not even nearly enough to translate their character. It’s always hard to tell what kind of a personality a man has from a picture like that, unless of course they are wearing that stupid checkered suit…Percival hated those suits with passion, and that man used to have so many of those…A whole wardrobe of checkered suits in all shapes and colors, not a pinstripe in sight. He was always the weird one. Always thinking out of the box.

“They are boring.” A figure in his office proclaimed, unnecessary loud and obnoxious, stretching the vowels until it grated on Percival’s nerves.

“They are wrong.” Percival said into the empty air. He knew it to be right and yet the solution eluded him; he was still gripping at the idea of choosing one of those brilliant young men in hopes that it’d be enough.

“Of course they are!” The figure exclaimed, throwing hands in the air.

“I need to start over.” With a sense of finality Percival closed the folders and put them away.

“No. No. No. No. No!” The checkered suit registered in his field vision as the figure appeared at his side and Percival closed his eyes again. “You are just going to run and chose another bunch of boring schoolboys!”

“Then what do you want me to do?” Percival snapped; he clenched his fists to fight off the building anger. Hopeless, he had no idea what to do next. Making the right choice was important, but he couldn’t…he didn’t know how, he was running out of time to complete one task that actually held any meaning in the wreckage that was his life now…

“Relax,” the figure at his side said, tone calm and light-hearted.

“I don’t know what to do.” Percival admitted aloud.

“Yes you do.” The figure retorted immediately with persuasion.

“Those young men…” Faces from the folder flittered through his mind again – a last ditch attempt to sort this out the usual way. But he could not work according to his usual ethic, not with this task. “I don’t know…”

“Yes.” It was said with such feeling that Percival’s momentary panic started ebbing away. “Yes, you do.”

Percival opened his eyes, taking in his empty office as the dear voice still echoed in his mind. “Yes, I do.” He said into the silence, knowing there was no one to hear but needing to get the words out, chasing the ghost of his beloved.

Only someone exceptional could take a name of Lancelot.


End file.
